Discovery
by mia101
Summary: Takes place shortly after "The Wannabe in the Weeds". Brennan's friends gather at the hospital after Booth is shot. My summaries are terrible. : I'm sorry.


_**A/N: okay, one more. last night's episode was just so heart-stopping, AND i'm avoiding studying for my last final. i just had to write this, and figured something brief couldn't hurt. :) please let me know how it makes you feel.**_

_**also, a quick note because i'm getting a lot of reviews in regards to this -- this is a one shot. not the beginning of a long story. sorry to all of you who are hoping for more from this. that was never my intention.**_

_**thanks, mia**_

_**p.s. jamie and i have started our new fic, and if you haven't checked it out, you should! it's called "Sensate Focus" , and our pen name is 5 Steamboats Shipping Co. We aim to please, so come visit us!**_

_**i also posted my new vid, "requiem" on my profile/bio page if you like that sort of thing -- it ends with this episode.**_

**Discovery**

a one shot.

A hospital blanket wrapped tightly around her slim shoulders, she made her way down the institutional-like hallway, the slow beeps and light thumping of heart monitors and respirators chugging away as a soundtrack. Shivering slightly, she trailed loose fingers along the wall as the room numbers increased. She remembered the room being in the three hundreds from the doctor's hushed words to Brennan.

Jack was asleep in the waiting room, not having woken even as she'd slid her shoulder gently from underneath his cheek, carefully tilting him in the other direction to rest him against the wall. One glance at Zach confirmed he too was asleep, still sitting nearly-erect, shoulders squared, and Cam had retreated to the other side of the waiting room, her cell phone pressed to her ear as she spoke in hushed tones. Even the young psychiatrist had stayed, his chin propped on his open palm, fast asleep.

It was nearly three in the morning, waiting hours officially over hours and hours ago. But none of them had left; none of them had been able to face the idea of heading back to their own homes to sleep comfortably and safely in their own beds. And so they had stayed.

Angela had been unable to forget the look on her friend's face as they EMT's had strapped her partner to the gurney, finally pulling her from him, trying to assure her that he was in good hands. By this time, Angela had regained some sense of composure, stepping forward to set her hands gently on Brennan's shoulders, to pull her back. She'd tried to reach her, tried to force her to look at her, but her eyes had simply glazed over, her expression blank.

"Cam," she called quickly. "I think she's in shock."

Their boss had appeared swiftly at her side, turning Brennan to face her, cupping her chin. "Dr. Brennan. He's going to the hospital. We'll take you, alright?"

She'd only nodded numbly, glancing down at her hands, stained red from the shooting, and Angela's blood had run cold.

"Bren," she said gently. "Come on, sweetie."

Her friend had finally responded, her eyes finally settling on the other body across the room. "They're going to want to know what happened," she mumbled. "They're going to question me. I – I shot her," she said shakily. "But she was – she shot him…"

Her voice trailed off, her eyes welling, and Camille had put a hand gently on he shoulder, helping Angela guide her out of the club and into the eruption of sirens and lights.

Now, at the hospital, the night nurse at the desk at the end of the hall looked up at her with sympathy when she spoke quietly, asking for the room number.

"Are you immediate family?" she asked slowly.

Angela hesitated. "No, no I'm not."

The nurse started to speak, but she interrupted her hastily.

"I'm actually not trying to visit him," she said quietly. "I'm just – I'm worried about my best friend. She went in hours ago to sit with him, and she hasn't come out. This is really – this is really difficult for her, and I just wanted to peek in on her for a moment."

"His wife?"

She barely managed to cover her surprise, nodding slowly. "Yes, that's right."

The nurse paused, biting on her lower lip, and Angela leaned closer. "Please," she said quietly, playing on the woman's sympathies. "Besides me, he's all she has. I'm really worried about her."

She was lying; she knew that for a fact. The waiting room alone was full of people who had stayed as much for Temperance Brennan as they had for Seeley Booth. But when hour after hour had ticked by with no sign of Brennan, Angela had been unable to sleep and just sit there.

The nurse seemed to be struggling, and Angela, seeing this, let her lower lip tremble, her eyes filling with tears. "Please," she whispered.

The nurse finally acquiesced, checking a list to give her a room number, and she turned the corridor after a mumbled thanks, chanting the number in her head. _Three seventy-three, three seventy-three._

Her heart ached at the thought of her dearest friend, so afraid and feeling alone. She'd seen her on that stage, _seen _her bouncing around, a light in her eyes as she'd sang for herself, for them… for Booth. She'd been fully alive, free and finally letting go completely for the first time. And all it had done, all it had proven to her was that if you weren't cautious, something could be taken from you.

As she approached the room, she pictured what she would see. Brennan would be seated in a chair, probably awake with worry, obsessing over every detail of what had transpired. She'd been numb when he'd been shot; had barely cracked while the doctors had led her down the hallway. Apparently she'd had enough sense to lie, to say she was his wife to be allowed to see him, and Angela wondered if she'd even be next to the bed. Whenever Brennan allowed herself to care, she always maintained a certain amount of distance – especially if that feeling was threatened. What on earth could she say to possibly get through to her, to comfort her? She was at a loss.

But when she reached the room and slowly eased the door open, her breath hung somewhere midway in her chest, unable to escape. Because in the near-darkness of the room, Temperance Brennan had abandoned her chair, leaving it skewed slightly to the side with her coat and bag. And as Angela approached the bed slowly, she saw her best friend curled in bed with Seeley Booth, her head buried against his throat, her arms slung tightly around his waist. Track marks on her cheeks were visible in the low-light, showing the path of tears, and her hair clung to the damp places on her cheeks. She'd even pulled his arm around her, as if he were holding her despite the fact that he remained unconscious.

Tears rushed to her own eyes, spilling over and falling quickly down her face as she took in the scene. Never had she seen her friend like this, so vulnerable, so responsive. Even through her father's reappearance and trial, through the discovery of her mother's remains, she had yet to see a vision so humbling, so heart-stopping.

Booth's chest rose and fell with each gust of the ventilator, and her friend rode with him, her body tucked against his, the fingers of her hand curling into his across his body.

And she had speculated, yes, would have bet money on the fact that her friend loved Seeley Booth. But never had it been so clearly displayed, and Angela's knees felt weak as she dropped into the abandoned chair by their side, watching them sleep.

_**Let me know... did you like it? talk to me. :)**_


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